


If You Really Love Me...

by Bitch_In_The_Blue



Series: Drabbles, One Shots, Outtakes, and AUs [4]
Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Angst, Depression, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Holidays, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Late Night Conversations, Love, Unrequited Love, alone on a holiday, needy trevor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-07 05:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14664477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitch_In_The_Blue/pseuds/Bitch_In_The_Blue
Summary: The holidays can be lonely.





	If You Really Love Me...

December 24th, 2014.  
11:35 PM  
  
Rosa jerked awake at the sudden blaring of her ringtone just six inches from her ear.  
Which asshole was calling her on Christmas Eve?  
No name on her caller ID. Pushing the lock screen button silenced the audio, but the phone continued to vibrate against the bed a few times before the call went to her voicemail.  
Finally, she could go back to sleep.  
She was in the middle of some... _preeeeeetty_ sexy dreams, if she were being honest. Involving herself and-- somebody. How had she forgotten already? She _just_ woke up!  
... _Fuck it_. She was gonna wake up in a few hours. _Just go back to sleep._  
Eyes closing again, phone face down on the bed, Rosa sighed and turned onto her other side, pulling her blanket up to her neck and beginning to doze off again.   
Until the phone fucking rang again.  
Now utterly pissed off, she let out an exasperated groan and turned back to the device. Same goddamn number.  
" _Fuuuuuuuck_ , man, leave a fucking voicemail!" She grumbled, muting the ring once more, putting the phone face down, and lying on her back.  
Soon the vibrations stopped.   
And then she got a notification.  
A voicemail, of course.   
What was so fucking important that they called her _twice_ , at night, on Christmas Eve?  
Unknown number, five second long voicemail.  
"Rosa, it's Trevor... Call me. I'm outside."  
... _What the fuck do you mean you're outside!?_  
Scrambling to get out of her bed, phone in hand, ran for her window; and, sure enough, Trevor's dirty red truck was parked on the street between her home and the De Santas'.  
"Come on," she whined, shutting her blinds before he could notice her. "Don't do this to me _now_..."  
She wasn't sure if she could do this. It'd been three months since they'd last spoken. And a month since they were even within sight of each other. She'd deleted his number from her phone since then.  
Her heart thumped unpleasantly in her chest at the thought of spending time alone with him. She just wasn't ready.  
Her phone began to ring in her hand.  
Trevor _again_.  
He wouldn't let her ignore him.  
Fuck.  
What choice was there?  
"Trevor, it's late," she answered, peeking out through the blinds to see him pacing outside of his truck, phone to his ear.  
_"I need to see you,"_ he said. He sounded like he was trying not to cry. _"Please."_ _  
_ "What's wrong?"  
He stopped pacing and rubbed his eyes, turning to her window. She wondered if he could see her peeking through the narrow crack in the blinds from about 70 feet away. _"I just need someone. I need you."_  
The admission tugged at her heartstrings. She sympathized, whether she wanted to or not.   
"I'll come outside... Just-- give me a minute, okay?"  
Poor Trevor. Desperate enough for comfort to come to, say, someone who rejected him.  
She could give him an hour. She could talk him down in an hour. Easy. _Hopefully_.  
She sighed, observing as he ended the call and rubbed his eyes. Like he was trying to rid himself of any evidence of tears before facing her.  
After throwing on some pants and a hoodie, she snuck outside to find him sitting in the driver's seat of the Bodhi.  
"Hi," she greeted with a yawn as she approached.  
Trevor, in his state of drunk/high stupor, barely recognized her at first with her cut hair.  
"What's going on?" She asked, leaning against the driver's side door.  
Only then did he register that this was _Rosa_ _Salamanca_ \- just with short hair, and wearing much heavier, much looser clothes than usual. Hood on over her head.  
“Sit with me,” he simply said, motioning to the passenger’s seat. She could see heavy bags and dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. What happened to get him to show up here? _Like this?_   
Rosa complied with a tired sigh, moving around the front of the truck to sit down beside the older man. Not bothering to buckle in- she wouldn’t let him drive her anywhere. Not when he was so obviously intoxicated. She wondered if he’d been drinking with Michael in his house-- or else that would imply that he drove _all the fucking way_ to Rockford Hills, drunk and/or high, just to see her.  
Looking over at him, legs crossed in the seat and leaning away from him, she was ready to let herself out of the vehicle if he decided to turn the keys in the ignition.  
“Did you just get to Rockford Hills?” She asked.  
“I was in the area,” he lied, not looking at her. Admittedly, afraid to see what kind of way she was looking at him. A trace of annoyance or being inconvenienced in her face would make him feel like this was a mistake. “Well-” he sighed. “I just got in the truck, started driving, and ended up here.” Seemed reflexive to drive to the houses on either side of the street.  
Except Rosa was the only one he knew would answer at this time of night. Michael would just send him away.  
“You really shouldn’t drive when you’ve been partying,” she chuckled weakly- trying to offer up some humor to lighten the mood.  
“Not much ‘partying’ going on these days.” He finally stole a look at her- seeing a pitying smile on her face.   
She felt bad for him.  
“Why not?”  
He sighed. “When you left... Shit just seemed kind of pointless.”   
Rosa frowned, feeling a twinge of guilt at the insinuation that her absence took away whatever small joys he had in his life. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like that.”  
“I know,” he said. “And I didn’t mean to hurt you either.”  
“I know,” she replied with a nod. Of course he hadn’t _meant_ to. Trevor had practically idolized her at the beginning of their relationship. But as the initial spark wore off and reality set in, as it always did, he reverted to his pre-obsessive self. Selfish. Always with some kind of man-made substance in his veins to make him forget that he was a clinically depressed fifty-year-old man who didn’t know how to care for other people, or for himself.  
“I still love you,” he said.  
“Really?”  
“Really.”  
“Prove it."  
"Anything."  
"Don’t drive drunk or stoned anymore. Okay?”  
“... Okay.”  
“Fuck, _thank you_ ,” Rosa groaned, leaning her head back against the passenger seat. "You make me worry about you, Trevor."  
He scoffed in reply.  
"I mean it!" Knowingly letting him endanger himself or other people would weigh heavy in her conscience.  
"Yeah, you worry that I'm gonna _kill_ you. I'm not going to."  
"That's not what I mean," she frowned, uncrossing her legs and pulling down the hood of her sweatshirt. "I care about you. I want you to be okay."  
The words warmed Trevor’s soul. “Are you serious?”  
The way he looked at her was akin to how a child looked at their parents when they received something they’d always wanted on Christmas Day.   
And Trevor’s long-awaited gift was for someone to genuinely care for him.  
Something even _he_ deserved.  
“I’m serious,” she nodded.   
Overjoyed, he leaned over to try to kiss her, but she leaned back away from him. Not allowing it to happen.  
He settled back into his seat, feeling dejected. Face going red in embarrassment. Why wouldn’t she just kiss him? It would make him feel _right_. And it would make all of this go away.  
She hated to admit that she actually felt a little guilty for not comforting him in the way he knew best. But she stuck to her right mindset: that she didn’t have to give him what he wanted if she didn’t want to. “What happened to make you want to see _me_ , Trevor?”  
“I was thinking about you,” he admitted. “And I wanted you to know that I love you. Even if I’m a complete fuck up, you’re the only thing that made me feel like I wasn’t.” He scoffed at his own statement. “But you don’t even give half a shit about me. You’re just tired of dealing with me. Like everybody else… Y’know, just go back to bed. Sorry I bothered you. We'll just forget I even came. I’m fucking kidding myself ever thinking that you might’ve loved me.”  
“What are you talking about?” She frowned. “Of course I love you, Trevor.” It felt slimy and cruel to use this as a means of influencing him. Still. It got his undivided attention, tears rolling down his face as if on command. He looked awestruck, like it was a gift from heaven itself. “Really?”  
“Really,” she nodded. “And that’s why I want you to check into a hotel tonight.”  
“Are you coming?”  
“No,” she said. “I want you to do this _without_ me.” She reached over and laid a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him in closer to place a soft kiss on his forehead. He didn’t try to turn it into anything more- simply appreciative of the seemingly sincere gesture.  
It was manipulative to use his affection against him, and she felt guilty for previous times she’d done it. There had been many.  
But this time it was for his own good. And he was so fucked up tonight that she doubted he’d even remember coming to her home, or why he would wake up in a hotel bed in several hours.  
This would make him listen to her. As it always had.  
“Please. I need you to take care of yourself,” she continued, her hand finding his- the small gesture would drive home her point. “I want you to get better.”  
“I wanna get better.”  
“Then if you really love me, you’ll start by taking better care of yourself, okay?”  
Trevor seemed to hesitate, as if this was a hard decision to make.  
And for him, it was. Nobody hated themselves like Trevor did. And he didn’t love anyone like he loved Rosa.  
“Okay,” he finally agreed. Pitiful. Arms snaking around her middle to pull her in close. So she indulged him, holding onto him because she knew he needed it. They stayed still for a long couple of minutes, and Rosa could feel hot tears against her neck where his head rested. He was shaking. The realization made her heart feel impossibly heavy in her chest- he was sobering up. She hated how she wanted to take care of him. He had hurt her. She should hate him. But she didn't. She couldn't. She wouldn't.  
“Promise me you'll go get a room and stay the night. And no more drugs or drinks tonight.”  
“I promise. I love you.” She felt him tightly gripping the excess fabric of the back of her sweatshirt. “I love you.”  
“I know,” she softly replied. When he let go of her, she gave him another forehead kiss as if to seal the deal, then got out of his truck to walk over to his side. “Text me when you get a room. And stay somewhere safe and clean, no seedy motels or drug dens, got it?”  
“Okay,” he agreed, noticeably uplifted by seeing how much she cared for him. Reaching out, he pulled her closer by her sleeve so he could kiss her. Soft, and surprisingly chaste for Trevor Philips. And she let him. Whatever it took to get him to go to bed.  
“I love you.” He seemed to say it each time he didn't get the reply he wanted. So she gave it to him.  
“I love you too,” the lie came smoothly, and she feigned a small smile for him when the engine of his truck started up. He even put on his seatbelt for once.  
Rosa stood back and watched him drive around the corner toward Vinewood Boulevard. And listened until she could no longer hear the engine before going back into the house.  
She carefully closed the front door and locked it- silently so as to not wake Lita upstairs.   
And then leaned against the door. Sunk down to the floor. Curled into a ball. And wept freely. Until there was nothing left to come out of her eyes.   
She checked the time when she was done- 1:47 AM. Christmas morning.  
Talking to Trevor still took a huge toll on her emotionally. And she always felt it most when she was finally alone.  
Especially tonight.  
The night where she finally began to wonder if she actually _did_ love him.


End file.
